


The Corner of the Eye

by MarlaHectic



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: "monster episode" of shorts, Another character appears, Dolls, Paranoia, Season 2 setting, basically a small horror story, but it's kind of a suprise cameo so not tagging, gosh I am terrible at tagging, great surprise, original character statement, people die, sorry - Freeform, the format is weird bcs it's not exactly a transcrip but almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarlaHectic/pseuds/MarlaHectic
Summary: Statement of one Dawn Martinson regarding the dissapearance of her best friend and its relantionship to an old doll.Or, in other words, a small original TMA story.Hope you enjoy it,Marla
Kudos: 1





	1. The Corner of the Eye

**Author's Note:**

> ¡Hola!
> 
> Marla here, I started writing this as an original regular horror story while ‘paying attention’ at college and quickly decided it somehow felt more organic in English.  
> Then, after changing the language, I realized it was the kind of story that I picture as an statement and/or declaration (especially because of the very last line, that I just KNEW I wanted that way).  
> From there, since I am sooo hooked on The Magnus Archives (right now at the middle of S3, trying to avoid spoilers as a ninja) I decided that, well, it made sense as a ‘monster episode’ and I set it in season 2 because I just wanted to play a bit with paranoia!Jon.  
> As a random piece of data, the names of the characters are based on my two best friends (Cristian and Cecilia) and, well, my actual “legal name” (Alba, in English, Dawn).  
> Oh! And if you find the dates contradictory of something, please, let me know, I am terrible at remember dates and years.
> 
> Wishing you enjoy this (and that you forgive all my non-native speaker and quick tipper mistakes),  
> Marla.

[Recorder noises begin]

[ARCHIVIST AS HIMSELF]: Transcript of the statement of one Dawn Martinson, 14th March 2012; originally taken by Cecilia Bane, Head Archivist Assistant. Recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, 31 October 2016. 

Statement begins.

[ARCHIVIST AS DAWN]: I have never considered myself a coward. Yes, it’s true I am never going to be the first one to jump into a dangerous situation, but I am not held back by my fears either.  
That doesn’t mean that I can not be extremely weary of my surroundings, though. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a paranoid person; I am just...very, very careful. Too much, perhaps; I just hope you’ll understand why by the end of this statement.

All my life I knew there were dangers in the world, a plethora of threats to my well-being; but I just couldn’t resign to not live in order to avoid them; so I developed a strategy to prevent myself from facing them unexpectedly: always paying attention at what could only be seen by the corner of my eye.   
This is usually a great method; it doesn’t interfere with my day-to-day life and has helped me not to be robbed or worse a couple of times… [Nervous, uncomfortable laugh].  
However, it gave me a pretty hard time growing up, in my teens, right after my grandmother passed away…  
...and they brought that bloody doll into my room. 

It was kind of a piece of childhood memorabilia from my mom, which she remembered with remarkable nostalgia due to the fact that her parents would never allow her to bring the...thing to her bedroom (wonder why…).  
So, somehow, it made complete sense in her head that, after we inherited my grandmother’s country house and everything in it, the doll’s righteous place was right in front of her own daughter’s bed.  
I am not one of those people who are actively scared of dolls; and this wasn’t your usual high-key creepy porcelain doll. Actually, it was a quite dull one; made of plastic, with an old-fashioned childish light blue dress with no distinguishable pattern and features well-done enough so it can be relatable for little kids but not so it could become disturbingly human.  
And still...it haunted me since the first time I laid eyes on her. 

Yes, I know I called it a ‘her’ and not an ‘it’; but...the thing was, she HAD personality, has, I guess. [Shrugs uncomfortably]. It wasn’t something you could put your finger on, but it was there, and it was anything but nice.  
She was hostile...in her artificial silence, in her fake child-like smirk (because that wasn’t a full smile, I swear), in her ocean blue eyes...it all felt as if I wasn’t welcomed at my own house, at the very own personal refuge that was my bedroom.  
Alas, I started looking at her with the corner of my eye every time I had to be there with any kind of lights on (because, and I am aware of how crazy this sounds, I KNEW she needed light in order to move; just as any other…human-ish being).   
It was a living nightmare. 

I didn’t truly see anything per se, but, even though I wasn’t actually witnessing it, the images were crystal clear in my mind, patiently waiting the second the doll entered my rearview to force themselves on me.  
I am fairly positive some of them will haunt me until the day I die; such as the evening when, while alone at home, I caught a glimpse of one of her tiny hands, but it looked way more fleshy than it should have, the nail-less chubby fingers moving rhythmically as if they tried to reach for my arm…  
...and, when she almost achieved her wicked goal, as I violently shoved my arm away from her, I felt a lurking, cold, clingy presence that slightly resembled the soft touch of fingertips right at the height of my arm that paralleled the doll.  
There were plenty of these moments, but I’d honestly rather not remember; much less speak about them; if you may.

The worst part of the whole situation was, though, the Unknowing; the completely blank in my mind where any kind of hypothesis about what the doll was actually was going to do with me if I gave it even the tiniest chance.  
It made me shiver violently every single time I gave it the minimum thought. Sometimes it even prevented me from sleep, putting me in an insomniac trance where my mind battled the slumber by trying to figure out what form my doom might take if my sworn plastic enemy got away with it...with ME. 

But, as much as it bugged me, I got through it and eventually moved out to college, somehow managing there to convince myself it had all been inside my head.  
I don’t want to enter into details, but high school...wasn’t that great for me either; therefore I guessed making a stupid doll into some wicked supernatural archenemy was a way of projecting my issues in order to cope with everything else going on in my life.

Things could...might...SHOULD have ended there, but they didn’t. You see, the reason I have actually decided to tell my story is not because of some scary memories from my teens; the reason I am here is because… [Long, deep, swallow] ...it’s because my best friend is dead because of me.

Yeah, I know he is still just ‘missing’, but a year has gone by and...I am not fooling myself: he is long gone, or worse; but I don’t want to even begin to consider what that ‘worse’ might consist of. 

My friend (Cristian Hillmaster, in case you want to contrast this story) lived in the outskirts of the city and, when he started studying a major at the City College -which is nearby my house-, I offered him my room, since I wasn’t living there at the moment.  
I had always thought that he was going to achieve so much more than I, and I wanted him to be as happy and comfortable as possible.  
Hence, aware of how, even though he wasn’t even half as...careful as I was about his surroundings, he was probably going to freak out about the dam doll I decided to prevent him from going through what at that point I thought was a complete horror-nonsense as I did.  
So, the day we met before he moved in, as I handled him my keys, I shield his damnation with a simple sentence.  
“I know the doll in my room is kind of creepy just...pretend it isn’t there.”

The next couple of weeks were completely uneventful, and then I received the text.  
It was a regular, absolutely common, WhatsApp message; and I am pretty sure it was from one of the group chats I was more active at the time, so I opened it almost mechanically before going to sleep, only the dim light of the screen illuminating the room.  
I froze.  
Instead of a crowded (short of speak) group chain, there was one, simple message; with absolutely no sight of the user’s name (or any hint of who could have send it) above it.  
“He wasn’t as careful as his predecessor, your bad.”  
My spine convulsed as my whole body and soul panicked while I read, and read, and read all over again the sentence.  
I tried to phone Cristian, hoping he would answer as if nothing had happened, just to find out I couldn’t leave the WhatsApp group.  
Added to this, I would have sworn the screen’s light had started titling, mocking me for causing my friend’s death.  
I threw the thing away with an animal scream, strength like I have never shown before. And, still, the light of the screen kept on, now stark bright.   
I don’t recall how long I stayed there, incapable of moving, believing there were way too many corners to cover with my eyes, before I passed out, fear melted with absolute tiredness.

The rest...well, is history. My friend had gone missing during the night and nobody ever heard of him again...after some time, I have started thinking this was for the best, being the alternative so horrifyingly unknown. [Long sight]  
The reason I wanted someone to hear this story is –apart from, obviously, tell ANYONE what really happened to my best friend- that Cristian wasn’t the only being that disappeared that night…  
...the plastic doll had almost mysteriously vanished; no one able to explain so. Please, if you find her; burn her, put her in sulfuric acid or whatever, but, please, DESTROY HER.

And me? I’m still always keeping an eye on whatever can only be seen with the corner of my eye; since it seems to be even more useful than I believed it to be before.  
What? I see in your face you don’t believe me…  
...just take a second and look by yourself at the corner of your eye.  
[Small chuckle]  
Yeah, right, uh?  
What do you say know?

[ARCHIVIST AS HIMSELF]: Well, this is a...curious statement. Honestly, if I had read this transcript six months ago I'd have dismissed without a second thought but know...I don’t know, there is something...reliable in Miss Martinson’s experience.  
Furthermore, all the details and names given had been easily confirmed, including the disappearance of a doll belonging to the Martinson marriage circa when Cristian Hillmaster went missing.  
Besides, I have made Sasha revise the inventories and we have several objects donated by one Mrs. Martison; looking at the dates, I am prompt to believe they were given to us by our witness’ grandmother; making the doll likely to be one that got away...I just hope it doesn’t pop up anymore; I have enough problems to deal with right now.

Statement ends. 

[Recorder noises end]


	2. Supplemental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The title is kind of self explanatory...SURPRISE GUEST HERE!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised is debt!  
> Here is the Supplemental, Season 2!Jon strikes back!
> 
> Wish you like it (and that you forgive my non-native speaker and quick tipper mistakes),  
> Marla
> 
> Allons-y!

[Recorder noises begin]

[ARCHIVIST AS HIMSELF]: Supplemental. 

The end of this statement bugs me...Miss Martison is clearly implying there was something, something NOT NORMAL near the woman that first recorded this...So I looked into her and there was indeed one Cecilia Bane working at the Archive back in 2012...and she disappeared around the date this statement was given, never to be heard again of; not even outside the Institute (I’d be sympathetic if she just decided to leave of this madness behind, honestly, even if I find myself unable to do so…). Actually, her brother filed a missing person report a month afterwards.  
I have a very clear idea of what it was behind them, since, when Martin went to ask Miss Martinson if she could come by to confirm her statement; she denied and muttered something about not being sure of being able of choosing the right door again…  
...I obviously didn’t tell Martin about my suspicions (I am still not sure if he is related to Gertrude’s murder, and, if I have learned something from Dawn Martinson is that you cannot ever be too careful), but that sounds awfully a lot like Michael...did she...did she confront him and somehow made it through?

Anyway, there is another thing that I can’t get out of my mind about this statement: it was clearly recorded but, yet, only the transcript remains. Was it Gertrude the one that removed it, for reasons I still cannot understand? Was whoever killed her, maybe containing it some incriminatory background conversation? Or was it something entirely different?  
Of course, it being just ‘accidentally lost’ is totally out of the question.  
Whatever it is, I’ll keep an eye on it; it’s clear there are even more menaces than previously stated in here. 

Recording ends.

[Noises of a door being slammed]

[The recorder keeps making recording sounds]

[More door sounds, but now this one is opening, and it sounds unnaturally soft and gentle]

[MICHAEL/THE DISTORSION (mockingly)]: Poor fool, ah, if you only knew what you are actually against… [Terrible, maniac laughth]

Yes...I remember little Dawny...almost as paranoid as Johnny...she’s right, she’s likely to choose the wrong door next time...I guess it’s about time we find out.

Oh, yes, I almost forgot. [Overdramatic pause]

Statement ends.

[Laughs even more; more high-pitched]

[Recorder noises end]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaandn now, that was it. 
> 
> My best guess about this recording itself being lost?  
> Sasha was in the background somehow so Not-Sasha removed it alongside the others containing their victim’s voice (but you can have whatever theories you want, actually, I’d be glad to hear them ;) ). 
> 
> So, again, I hope you enjoyed this ‘Halloween’ one-shot and all feedback, random comments and kudos are very welcome,  
> Long live and prosperity,  
> Marla

**Author's Note:**

> Of course you found her reliable, Jonathan, she was just as paranoid as you were…
> 
> Hi there! Did you like my spooky tale for this year’s Samhain?  
> If anyone wonders, that doll kind of actually exists and it used to give me the creeps; now it’s just…an extra piece of furniture (luckily enough, it hasn’t tried to kill me…yet).  
> Anyways, as always, all feedback, comments and kudos are sososossososo welcome you just can’t imagine  
> Long live and prosperity,  
> Marla
> 
> Extra note: “swipe out” to Chapter Two for classic Season 2 Jon’s paranoia…and a bit more of spookiness (YEAH, THERE IS THE SUPPLEMENTAL BITCHES!!!)


End file.
